Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 217 A river of blood

Boom boom boom...

After no more living people could be seen at the "coastal execution ground" execution site, the warship's cannons and machine guns finally ceased firing.

Before Milton could say anything, the people who had bought tickets to visit up close cheered.

"Alas!!!"

"Cool!"

"Long live Milton!"

"This firepower is so cool! I want to join the army and drive a warship."

"Ha, talking so softly and you think you can command a warship..."

"..."

The news of the cult's attack on the passenger ship had been widely publicized, and everyone felt a sense of satisfaction watching these lunatics being taken down.

That majestic warship, with its two main guns poised to fire, also filled many people with a sense of pride.

When Lopez ruled them, if something bad happened, they either had to endure it themselves or bribe the gangs or police to resolve it.

Whether it can ultimately be resolved is still a question.

The military is a symbol of robbers and bandits; no one can help but be afraid when they see these people, who legally possess weapons of mass destruction, roaming the streets.

Moreover, they did indeed commit arson, murder, and looting.

Unlike now, the stationed troops are stronger than ever before, but their presence is weaker than ever before. After the war ended, many people never saw the army again.

Now, once again, we see that it is the military that has taken down the terrorists.

This has led many people to feel pride rather than fear and disgust upon seeing a powerful army.

Milton looked at the cheering crowd and once again remarked on their "simple and honest folks" before saying, "Go and do some statistics, and sort the 'building materials' and hazardous waste."

"Yes!"

The order was quickly relayed, and the count began at the execution ground.

Soon, the still intact human heads on the ground were loaded onto trucks that were waiting on the side, while the limbs were separated and hauled onto a small transport ship.

"Reporting, sir!" The captain saluted Milton with his missing hand, then said with some shame, "I'm sorry, the loss of building materials this time is quite high..."

“It’s alright.” Milton was very generous. “We’re here for you to practice. It’s better to be inaccurate now than to be inaccurate on the battlefield. If you’re inaccurate now, you’ll just lose some building materials. If you’re inaccurate on the battlefield, the warship will sink and the whole ship will be fed to sharks at the bottom of the sea.”

"Bring up the next batch of prisoners!"

"Hurry up! Treat this execution like you're on the battlefield. Do you think the enemy will give you that much time to prepare? Hurry up!"

The next batch of prisoners brought in were completely different from the first batch, who were all bewildered and clueless.

Even across the sea, Milton could see many people who were troublemakers before going to prison or even to court, but now they were all terrified.

It was truly terrifying – the way he limped and twisted his crotch as he walked forward was particularly comical.

The beach had by now almost become a mass grave.

Many prisoners finally started yelling something at the warship.

Milton turned his head slightly and asked, "What are they shouting?"

"Sir, do you want to know what those people are shouting..." Captain Marinho immediately communicated with the people on shore, then replied to Milton, "Report, the people below are begging for mercy!"

“Oh, interesting. You’re begging me for mercy?” Milton chuckled. “Why don’t you cry to those onlookers? What’s the use of begging me?”

“Report: On the way to the execution site, a large number of people started throwing rotten eggs at them,” Marinho continued. “They probably think that begging you for mercy will give them a better chance of survival.”

"Ignore them, kill!"

"Fire, fire!"

Boom boom boom...

"..."

After the execution, Milton turned around, jumped onto the warship's speedboat, and returned to shore.

Milton beckoned Flora and Brandon to come with him: "Let's go back to Malacan and show the locals what it's like to travel. Let's bring back some tourist attractions."

Wealth and honor do not return home, just like walking in brocade at night!
Brandon thought to himself, "I don't think my fellow countryman will be so quick to accept your kindness."

"Let's go..."

The group arrived at the airport, boarded a helicopter, and flew towards Malacan Airport, quickly arriving at the town's airport.

The town is now gradually moving away from the war, located in the farthest center of Milton-controlled territory.

The frontline airport, which was originally small in scale and had ordinary paving materials, was gradually converted into a dual-use military and civilian airport.

The townspeople, who once struggled to make ends meet, finally got a chance to indulge in a little luxury—a couple could earn enough in half a year to buy a plane ticket for their family and travel to a big city for a few days in a more comfortable way.

"It's well-constructed." Flora stepped off the helicopter and looked around the brand-new small airport. "It looks quite impressive."

Milton shook his head slightly: "As a small town with nearby mines, even if those mines aren't particularly valuable, it shouldn't be poor."

“The main thing is that you brought in some machines. Although they are old machines, they are enough to greatly increase the output of minerals.” Flora opened the armored vehicle door for Milton. “Feeding the people of a small town is not a problem at all.”

The two men rode in an armored vehicle through a checkpoint—a checkpoint that had once caused Milton and the old stationmaster to fight tooth and nail, but whose stationmaster had now been handed over to someone else.

When the new stationmaster saw Milton's convoy approaching, he quickly led the border officials over to salute.

Milton returned the greeting briefly from the car, then continued onward to the town, where he took a short drive amidst the enthusiastic cheers of the townspeople.

At this point, the town was truly beginning to resemble a small county town.

The former slum, Green Leaf Street, has had all its dilapidated houses demolished and replaced with newer and better ones, all now connected to water and electricity.

After looking around, Milton had the armored vehicle parked in front of the Malacan town tax office.

The newly appointed tax officer was already waiting at the door: "'Godfather'!"

After this incident, the townspeople already knew Milton had returned, and they flocked to the streets to see the tax collector who had led them out of poverty.

Despite the town's remoteness, every bar, restaurant, and entertainment venue has a television, and everyone knows what has happened recently.

Milton killed Lopez, who had frequently appeared on television and seemed unattainable to everyone, achieving a decisive victory in the Civil War and gaining control of four provinces. He was now a big shot!
The "hellish tax collector" who came from a small town is now a big shot in the whole country... How can this not make people proud?

In the schools of Malacan, Milton's story was even included in the textbooks, told extensively, and made all the children proud of Milton.

Moreover, he did not forget his hometown, and everyone's life has visibly improved.

"Alright." Milton waved his hand. "I'm not here for an inspection today; I'm here to bring good news."

The townspeople's faces immediately lit up with anticipation.

"The Godfather has another project?"

"Could we ask the bank to issue a student loan? My child might be able to go to university, but we don't have much money."

"Why don't we see Mr. Godfather's face on the currency? Neo and Leah were so excited to see the new currency, but they were so disappointed."

"..."

There was a lot of chattering around.

Milton ignored all that: "Student loans will be available soon, with very low interest rates, don't worry. I'm here today to introduce a tourism project to everyone."

"Relying solely on income from mining is too dependent on the international market environment. We need to diversify our economy."

"Great!" Neo cheered loudly. "Finally, we have somewhere to play in our town!"

Other townspeople, including adults, were also very curious.

How can they develop tourism projects in such a dilapidated, small, and poor place?
“Yes,” Milton nodded, “but I must tell everyone—overcharging is not allowed, and if we receive a complaint, the tax office will come immediately.”

"I don't need to explain what punishment is, do I?"

After order was restored and the fruit stand was sold, the little girl, Liya, who now had a small sum of money, was also very curious: "'Godfather', what exactly is this project?"

“Minors are not allowed in this project.” Milton glanced at the two children. “You two should focus on your studies first. Wait until you are adults, have developed your own worldview, and understand some things before visiting my project.”

Both children have witnessed the harshness of the world, especially Leah, who lost both her parents, but after seeing it all, they still need guidance and education.

Let's not look at the Jingguan for now...

"Sigh!" Neo was led away with a bit of disappointment, muttering before he left, "That's what my mom said too. I really want to grow up quickly."

"..."

After all the children had left, several trucks drove up from behind.

Seeing the curious looks on everyone's faces, Milton slowly said, "Do you remember your lives? You were robbed by gangsters every day, living hand to mouth, working your whole life but still unable to pay off your loans, working hard but only able to secretly sleep in other people's houses, covered with tattered posters. Do you remember?"

Those whose names were called scratched their heads, and said somewhat sheepishly, "I remember..."

They later learned that the house they were sleeping in belonged to the fallen comrades of the "Hell Tax Collector".

“You might have this feeling… from the lowest-level gangsters to the police chiefs in the middle, to Congressman Lopez at the top, no one thinks there’s a problem. No one around you thinks there’s a problem with this kind of life.”

"You think that life is just like this from the beginning."

"Because that's what everyone is telling you."

Milton cleared his throat and continued, "But in reality... I'm telling you, life isn't like that. Everyone is like that because everyone is wrong."

"And I corrected all of this—completely corrected it, without leaving a trace."

As soon as he finished speaking, the trucks drove up to the vicinity of Central Park.

With a whoosh, to everyone's astonishment, a torrent of heads fell from the vehicle.

Those eyes, which had lost their luster, still held traces of fear and despair, enough to imagine what they had experienced in their lives.

One of the police officers responsible for maintaining order was also stunned. He asked, "'Godfather,' what... what is this?"

Milton pointed to the torrent of heads falling down and explained, “All those who have brought you suffering, from top to bottom, are here.”

Only then did the townspeople finally realize what Milton meant by "completely".

They wiped them all out!

"To celebrate the victory and to warn future generations, I decided to mix these heads with the soil and build a pyramid next to Central Park."

"Starting today, Central Park will be officially renamed 'Jingguan Park'."

"After they are repaired, they will be sealed in a transparent container so that the smell will not be emitted... and everyone can watch these things rot little by little."

"Their crimes will be remembered forever, and their fate will serve as a constant warning to future generations."

"If there are any more heinous criminals in the future, their heads will also be thrown into this place!"

The townspeople were stunned for a long time.

Good heavens, this is a tourist attraction?!

Build the heads of drug dealers, corrupt officials, gangsters, and cults into spectacles, so that they may be despised for eternity, and decay in the presence of all.

This tourist attraction can even draw many repeat customers—first, because the "Jingguan" (a mound of human remains) changes over time; and second, because Milton said that if there are any more heinous criminals in the future, they will also be thrown in as new "building materials."

Unlike some tourist attractions that you might visit once in your life and never go back, this is a unique experience.

This thing is always fresh and interesting to look at...

For the sake of the people of Malacan, the "Hell Tax Collector" killed thousands of people. It's so touching!

A business genius, though there's been a bit of bloodshed involved.

"I'll fix the wall!" A town resident finally couldn't contain his excitement. "I've built these kinds of things before, I have experience, I can work for free, no wages needed!"

"I'm here to help too!"

"'The Godfather,' I was here first. Let me help! I'll help!"

"Let me do it, I'll pay out of my own pocket, I have to do this job..."

"..."

Milton sighed and said to Flora beside him, "Perhaps this is what it means to have a simple and honest folk culture."

Flora nodded, then suddenly realized that a few people seemed to be missing from the group: "Hmm... huh? Where's Brandon?"

"The cenotaph of the 'pharmacy owner' is also here. He went over there... Let him go by himself, don't disturb him."

"The last and most important batch of 'Jingguan' materials is already on its way."

……

The execution process at the coastal execution ground lasted a full hour—a massacre of two thousand people, an hour is efficient, but the process was incredibly shocking.

For those cult members awaiting execution, each day felt like an eternity.

The last few groups of cult members even showed some signs of impending mental breakdown.

But... the most shocked people at this moment were not them, but the high-ranking members of the original Voodoo cult who were also on the execution ground, but not in the execution sequence.

The high priest was now handcuffed on the second floor of the coastal execution ground, in the best viewing spot. It was close by, had a good view, and could clearly see the expressions on the faces of everyone who was killed.

"You...you..."

Such a bloody and horrific massacre made even the usually cruel high priest feel uneasy.

Of course, the more important reason he felt uneasy was that he knew such a massacre could very well befall him.

“I have already handed over all the church’s assets, and you know that’s not a lie.” The high priest watched as wave after wave of believers were taken away by the warships, and finally lost his temper. He looked at the guards on the side and said, “Now we should cooperate, not fight—killing me will not do you any good.”

The guards at the door didn't even glance at him.

Mr. "Hell Tax Collector" promised some people that he would spare their lives if they paid him money, and the promise came true. Those people are probably still on banana plantations supplying delicious and free bananas to Quetzaltenango and other cities.

However, the "Hell Tax Collector" never promised these high-ranking members of the primitive Voodoo cult anything.

Did they think that paying money would save them from dying?
Even if there's only a one in ten thousand chance that the "Hell Tax Collectors" won't let them die, they'll still be made to live a life more painful than death.

"Let's go, stop howling like ghosts." Another guard received orders from his superior to move the prisoners. He stepped forward and put a hood over the high priest's head. "To where you charlatans should go."

"Wait, where are you taking me... wait!"

"..."

Soon, the group of people from the primitive voodoo cult were escorted onto a bus, and the high priest felt himself being strapped to his seat.

The bus engine started quickly, carrying more than twenty high-ranking members of the original Voodoo cult, as well as many other priests, as they drove around the highway.

Because he couldn't see anything, the high priest could only force himself to endure the dizziness while constantly scaring himself, wondering where he would be taken.

Are we going to be taken to a mine in the mountains to be free slaves?

No, if they're lucky, Milton might cooperate... He needs grassroots governance skills, and the High Priest believes he happens to have a lot of relevant knowledge and experience.

He still has value to him.

But the truck seemed unable to stop, and kept circling around on the mountain.

Several hours passed before we finally entered a town.

The high priest's shoulder was suddenly grabbed, and a sharp pain shot through him. Before he could even howl twice, he was taken to a dark little room and his hood was removed.

boom!
As the gate slammed shut, the guard's indifferent voice came: "You'll be staying here for a few days."

"and many more……"

The high priest shouted, but no sound came back.

But what's even more frightening is that even after the hood is removed, all he sees is darkness—utter darkness where he can't see even a sliver of light.

The high priest tried to walk a few steps in the room, but he couldn't touch anything except the soft walls and floor.

This pure darkness, this near-nothingness, and the feeling of being utterly deprived, made the high priest panic.

He tried to reach out and rub his eyes hard, trying to catch even the slightest bit of light, even if it was just enough to make him see a blurry shadow!

But the high priest was horrified to discover that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see anything at all.

After walking just a few steps, he even started to feel dizzy and began to lose his sense of direction...

The high priest paced anxiously in his cell until he was completely exhausted, at which point he finally closed his eyes, lay down, and rested for a while.

But soon, the high priest opened his eyes and scrambled to his feet in terror.

Because here, even "quiet" itself becomes a kind of terror!
The high priest could hear his own breathing, his own heartbeat, the sound of every pulse, and even vaguely hear the sounds of every organ working within him.

What's even more frightening is that this hearing doesn't travel through the eardrum, but seems to be generated directly in the brain.

Countless thoughts arose in his mind, and the high priest didn't even know whether they were "thoughts" or just talking to himself.

No, he has even lost his sense of time.

How much time has passed now... exactly?

The high priest paced anxiously and frantically in the dark room...

In fact, after only one day, he had already shown signs of a complete mental breakdown. This was a torture that Milton had specially arranged for him. Although it was very rudimentary and far from professional, it was more than enough to deal with the equally unprofessional high priest.

The most intuitively effective method, sleep, actually accelerates this mental breakdown process—in this environment, simply sleeping and shutting out one's senses will only lead to a precipitous drop in heart rate and breathing, until shock.

"It's been three days! I haven't eaten or drunk anything... Oh, I don't need to eat or drink anymore?"

"Hahahahaha!!!"

"Woooooooo..."

Finally, before the high priest went completely mad, the sound of a door opening came from behind him.

The high priest suddenly turned his head to look, and the door was actually very, very close to him.

The light that came in was very faint, but the high priest didn't care about that at all. He scrambled toward the door, tears streaming down his face, as if he had received some kind of salvation.

He fled from hell as if escaping from hell. After leaving the room, even though there was only one road in front of him, he couldn't wait to rush in that direction.

At this moment, the direction of the light is the only meaning.

After walking through a narrow passage, the high priest found himself in a wide-open space.

"They escaped, they escaped..."

The high priest's words caught in his throat.

After finally escaping what he thought was hell, he was greeted by a pyramid missing its top.

The pyramids, built with the heads of countless believers, and the high priest's "sacred artifacts"—broken artifacts scattered around the pyramids, charred fragments of priestly robes lying silently, and the symbols of primitive Voodoo broken into pieces.

Several high priests' corpses, holding their heads in their hands, knelt beside the pyramid, tears of blood streaming from their eyes.

The "Khorne" who had once glanced at him from afar was now standing at the highest point of the Jingguan, his figure half-hidden in the shadows, like a deity calmly accepting worship.

At this moment, the high priest completely broke down.

(End of this chapter)